To Get to the Other Side
by Sifl-senpai
Summary: Saitama tells Genos jokes until the sun sets over the city. Or, a discussion of the differences in two individuals' depth of feeling. (Cross posted from Ao3. Written for Saigenos week, but can also be enjoyed as genfic.)
The late afternoon light spread over the ruined neighborhood of Zeto as it finished its daily journey to the western horizon. It hesitated for a moment over a lone, occupied apartment building as if to illuminate the oddity like one would highlight a line of text in a book.

Inside sat two tenants- one the definition of nondescript and the other as beautiful and artificial as a plastic doll. The pair of them watched one another with interest from across the small, low table nestled between them.

"So, then," Saitama the plain said, wrapping up his anecdotal joke, "when the doctor asks the crazy guy how he knew all of that stuff, the guy points to his head and says to the doctor, 'Kidneys, man! It's all up there in the kidneys.'"

His opposite, the beautiful one, a boy put together with screws and wires and bolts and then named Genos, blinked his twin yellow eyes. "But normally the colloquial answer would be brains, as in, it's all about brains," he mused. "Why would," his glowing irises matched the afternoon light filtering in from the outside as he opened his eyelids wider, "Oh."

Saitama looked on as Genos, with feet tucked underneath himself and his hands still in his lap like a statue's, struggled to smile with the same determination and excitement an infant wields when struggling to stand and walk for the first time.

Then, Genos made a wheezing sound. Laughter. "That," he said, "is amusing."

"Oh? You think so?"

"Kidneys," Genos muttered the punchline again and nodded. "The man could memorize basic patterns of answers for any query repeated to him so many times, but he did not know the correct name for the brain. Thus, he ultimately used the wrong word as a testament to his intelligence, thereby undermining the cleverness and sanity in his memorized answers." He smiled again as he broke down the joke into pieces.

"Oh. Well, yeah. But, you know, if you explain a joke right after it's told like that, it isn't quite as funny anymore," Saitama said, rubbing at the back of his head.

The smile dropped from Genos's face. "My apologies, sensei."

"No, dude, I didn't mean that as, like, a criticism," Saitama said. "I was just sayin'. Don't worry about it."

"I have much to worry about if I wish to learn the secret to your strength."

"Sure, but you don't need to worry about anything like _this_ , though, man."

Genos deadpanned. "I will worry about it anyway."

Saitama shrugged, raised his eyebrows, and then glanced over his shoulder at the bookshelf behind him. "I don't really know how much telling jokes actually has to do with punching stuff really hard, but, um. Okay. Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

Genos's porcelain face pulled at itself in a fight for another change of expression. "Sensei also does not know anything about his own strength in the first place."

Saitama exhaled and rubbed circles on the back of his neck. Then, he nabbed a book from his shelf and cracked it open on the table. "I am not your sensei."

"I disagree." Genos flipped open his notebook and scribbled something down in it.

"You really like taking notes, huh?" Saitama asked.

Genos finished scratching out his line-by-line instructions for delivering a joke and then looked back to his teacher. "I like knowing that I have done my very best to be an exemplary pupil."

"Oh. Uh. Well. Sure." Saitama sighed again and looked down at his book. "You do you, I guess." He looked back up.

Across the table, Genos blinked at him once, and then again. He poised his pen over his notebook paper.

"Are you _really_ going to watch me all day?" Saitama asked.

"In order to record more data towards unearthing more secrets, yes. Besides, you found it permissible yesterday and allowed it. Surely you will not go back on your word, sensei."

"Man. I give you an inch, and you walk all over me."

Genos sat up straighter. "Nonsense. I would do no such thing. I am merely sitting here and writing."

"It's a figure of speech," Saitama said.

"I am aware of that, yes."

"Really?"

"Yes, sensei."

"You sure?"

"Of course."

Saitama held his book higher over his face so that it covered everything but his eyes. "'Kay."

Genos held his position and glued his eyes to Saitama. A steady sound of water droplets falling from the kitchen sink head and splattering on the drain resounded through the room.

"You're still staring at me, aren't you?"

Genos made a whirring noise.

"Are you?"

"...Yes."

"Fine. Geez." Saitama abandoned his book and reached to scratch at the back of his head. "Alright, then, here's another one for you. See if you like it." He cleared his throat. "'I see,' said the blind man, as he picked up his axe and saw."

Genos blinked and mouthed the words to himself. "Ah," he said, "I see. Rather, I understand. It is a play on words and their meanings. Homophones and homonyms. It is linguistics." He nodded once and sat up even straighter than before, if such a thing were possible. "Yes, I believe I understand it, sensei!"

Saitama nodded. "Okay, cool. Cool. Good!" He glanced at the cyborg. "But, like, did you _like_ it?"

Genos cocked his head. "Excuse me?"

"You know," Saitama said. "Did you think it was funny, or did you just _get_ it, and nothing else? Did it make you want to laugh?"

"Laugh?" Genos asked. "I feel no need. Why?" He leaned forward and opened his eyes a hair wider. "Will laughing make me become stronger? Are you saying I should push myself to laugh more and thus increase my strength in such a manner? Is this your real secret, laughing at jokes?"

"This has got nothing to do with super strength. At least, I _think_ laughing's got nothing to do with it." Saitama screwed his mouth into a frown. "Maybe it has something to do with it?" he added. "But nah. That's not the point, anyway."

"Why would you ask me such a thing if it does not fortify my destructive power in any way?"

"Because, dude. Like," Saitama gestured in the air, "I dunno, I guess you should be able to express that you feel _some_ way about it."

"I don't understand. It was a joke and I understood it. I have adequately passed your test. What more am I missing?"

"No, no, Genos, don't think of it like that. It's not a test," Saitama said.

Genos cocked his head sideways. "If it's not a test, what is it?" He frowned. "Is it another joke of some kind that I am not getting?"

"No."

Genos leaned forward even further over the table. "Perhaps I did not draw the correct conclusion over the punchline?"

"You're thinking too hard about this."

The cyborg pushed himself almost completely over the table and into Saitama's face. "My apologies, sensei. I only thought to apply myself most thoroughly to this challenge and-"

" _Woah_. Stop right there. You have exceeded your quota of ten words or less. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

Genos settled back onto the ground. "Sorry."

"Look, you don't have to apologize. Just calm down and take a chill pill for a sec." Saitama fiddled with the pulls of his hoodie. "Look, man, don't be like me and let everything just kinda sit inside you like a pool of stagnant water. Laugh at it. Or get mad at it and tell me it was terrible. Just," Saitama released his clothing, "feel something."

Genos put down his pen and laid his metal palm down flat over it. "Feel something?"

Saitama nodded. "Yeah."

The cyborg nodded and gazed at the floor. Saitama took the opportunity to pick up his book and continue where he left off.

"Why?" Genos's question cut through the air.

Saitama dropped the book into his lap without marking his place, a scowl on his features. "Because you can," he said.

"Because I can?"

"Yeah," said Saitama, flipping back through the pages of his book.

"I am a Cyborg of Justice. While I do feel emotions, I do not have time to focus on potent ones for frivolous reasons, and so I have done my best to discard them in my quest for the power to destroy the Mad Cyborg. I am afraid I am not moved by something as simple as wordplay."

Saitama chuckled. "Yes, you are. I've seen it. In fact, I just saw you smile not ten minutes ago."

"Smile?" Genos reached up and touched his face before pulling it into a neutral frown. "Expressions do not necessarily mean that one is feeling a strong emotion. For example, your expressions are subdued, sensei, but surely you feel deeply on the inside despite what your face reads."

"Is that what you think?"

"Of course," affirmed Genos.

"Huh," Saitama said. "Well, you're wrong."

"Sensei?"

"You're wrong," Saitama repeated, returning for the umpteenth time back to his book.

"Would you please elaborate?"

"I don't feel things anymore. I stopped when I accidentally did what you are trying to do and got power instead. It's boring." He flipped the page. "I think it's nice that you still feel things, though."

The afternoon light filling the room lost its grip and slid across the apartment floor as the day transformed into night. Genos's eyes remained as two golden pinpricks in the twilight. They burned into his teacher.

"Welp, anyways, at least we now know that you _do_ have a sense of humor, after all," Saitama noted, flipping to yet another page in his book.

"Of course, sensei," Genos said, closing his notebook.

"Hm? You okay?" Saitama glanced up from his book. "Your voice sounded funny there, for a second."

"I am fine," Genos said, turning away to tuck his notebook into a nearby bag. He cleared his throat. "It was a momentary lapse in my pitch processors. Nothing more."

"Oh. I didn't know cyborgs had to worry about their voices cracking. Puberty gets us all, sooner or later, I guess." Saitama chuckled. "No more notes?"

"Not at this moment, no."

"Oh. I thought you'd never stop with those. Cool."

"Y-yes. Cool."

The light pulled back further and lingered on Saitama's smooth head.

"Hey, Genos?"

"Yes, sensei?"

"Who is bigger? Mr. Bigger or his little son?"

"I," Genos swallowed. "Mr. Bigger?"

"His son, because he was _just a little Bigger!_ " Saitama finished, his lips quirking into a smile. He looked up at his companion.

"O-oh."

"Aw, come on, it wasn't _that_ bad," Saitama said.

"I never said it was bad."

Saitama shook his head. "You don't have to suck up to me."

"I'm not. I thought it was... it…" Genos' breath hitched.

"It was so bad it made you cry. I get it. Now go get a tissue from the bathroom or something and clean up your face. Yeesh."

"I liked the joke. Really."

Saitama rolled his eyes. "Oh, shaddup. Don't sit there and lie to me like a big, uh, a big ol' liar. Tell me what you really think, or go off and let your emotions out. Humor me and be yourself." He shrugged. "Acting like the stoic, tough guy type is overrated, anyway."

Genos stood up without a word and strode through the darkness and into the bathroom.

"Remember, if it's oil, it won't spoil!" Saitama called after him. "So don't flush! Saves on the water!"

Genos made a noise of affirmation and closed the door.

When he returned, the light slipped over the deck, past the horizon, and was lost in the hole in the city's center.

"Oh," Saitama muttered to himself, "it's dark. That's too bad." He closed his book.

Genos' bright eyes shone through the blackness like twin suns. "Yes. It is."

"You don't have to agree with everything I-"

Genos sniffed. "It is dark. But tomorrow is a brand new day. The sun comes back after even the darkest night, without fail."

"Uh, yeah, dude. I, uh, I know." Saitama stood up and pulled out his futon. "The dark's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal!"

Saitama's eyebrows shot up to where his hairline should be. "O-kay. If it's important to you, then, sure. The sun'll rise whenever morning gets here, no problem."

"It will, sensei. I promise."

Saitama regarded Genos' face, his own expression a mirror, and then chuckled. "Okay, okay. Here's one. Why do we call 'em seagulls even if they're by the bay?"

"I don't know."

"Because then they wouldn't be seagulls- they'd be bagels."

"...Ah."

Saitama spread his blanket out over his futon. "Well? How about that one?"

"Sensei."

"Yeah, Genos?" Saitama fluffed his pillow.

Genos closed his eyes. "None of your jokes are very funny."

"Gee, thanks. See if I ever tell you anything else ever again."

" _Sensei_ ," Genos argued.

"What?"

"Take that back. Please keep telling me things. Whatever is on your mind. I'll listen. I want to hear what you have to say."

"Oh," Saitama said. "Uh, sure."

"I mean it."

"I'm sure you do," Saitama said.

Genos held his ground. "Promise me that you will."

Saitama regarded Genos again for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright, I promise."

Genos bowed. "Thank you. I will hold you to that."

Saitama grinned. "Oh, I'm sure of that, too." He laid down on his futon and pulled his blanket around himself. "Goodnight."

"Sensei," Genos pestered.

"Whaaaaaaat?"

"...Why did the chicken cross the road?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 **Thank you so much for reading and thank you even more to those of you who review.**


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